The New Beautiful: A Christmas Tale
by Channel D
Summary: Abby has found a new idea for a holiday charity benefit: ugly Christmas sweaters! Oneshot, featuring nearly everyone. Set in the present, but no spoilers.


**The New Beautiful: A Christmas Tale**

**by channelD**

_rating_: K plus

_characters_: starring everyone!

_genre_: humor

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_disclaimer_: Even after all this time, I still own nothing of NCIS.

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On one December, very much like this one, a crime was committed inside the red brick walls of NCIS.

A crime of _fashion_.

This is the tale of how this ugly situation came to be…

_**Friday, December 4**_

_The Unveiling_

Arriving at her duty station, she took off her long winter coat, shaking loose a few stray snowflakes, and holding it a little gingerly. It had just come back from the cleaners, after all, and carried a faint scent of whatever they cleaned it with. She took it in for cleaning exactly every three weeks, to rid it of any pathogens that it might be carrying.

She smoothed down her sweater, looking down at it, and smiled. As she adjusted her ever-present face mask, she thought again about how pleased she was with her choice of sweaters today. _Let's see how it goes over…_

_The Charitable Season_

"C'mon, Gibbs! You can think your way around any problem! Help me out on this!"

Gibbs didn't meet eyes with the forensic scientist. "Abbs, I have work to do, and so do you. You should be thinking about this on your own time."

"But, Gibbs, this is for _charity!_ 'At this festive season of the year, it is more than usually desirable that we should make some slight provision for the Poor and Destitute, who suffer greatly at the present time. Many thousands are in want of common necessaries; hundreds of thousands are in want of common comforts, sir.' "

Gibbs looked up, mildly impressed. "_A Christmas Carol. _Good quote."

"The Director will approve of my idea for a charity for NCIS to sponsor if I can come up with an idea that people will buy into so that they will donate. I have a charity in mind, but I'm all out of _get-interested-in-giving_ ideas!"

"Abbs…" She was trying his patience today. It was true, NCIS seemed to have done to death the usual _pull-out-your-wallet_ fundraisers for years. Were there no new ideas left?

_The Spectacle_

Tony's eyes popped out…well, not literally, of course, but figuratively, they did. Seeing him, you would say that his eyes _Popped! Out!_ "Wow!" he said, in a choked voice. "Wow, Nikki! That is…that's some sweater you're wearing."

The germaphobe Intel analyst turned his way. "Do you like it, Tony?" Her dark eyes twinkled.

"I, uh…that is…it's…it's really interesting. Yes, it is."

Nikki Jardine wore a thick, deep blue cardigan sweater. All over it large snowmen danced with small people…people who might be elves (judging from their peaked caps and curled-toe shoes), under a starry sky with a smiling moon that was surrounded by a wreath of holly.

"Do you like it?" she beamed.

"Uh…it's…it's…amazing. It really is."

"But do you _like_ it?"

"Um, well, to be honest…do you really want me to be honest? I don't always do 'honest' very well." Tony was squirming now; kicking himself for having ever brought the subject up.

"Yes; please be honest. I selected this sweater with care."

"Okaaaaaayyy…Nikki, that is without a doubt the _ugliest_ sweater I have _ever_ seen." Tony sighed in relief, but not without a little fear. Nikki was capable of enacting revenge.

To his surprise, she squealed with delight, and punched the air with her fist. _"Yes!!!_ Success!!!"

"What's going on?" Abby called from where she stood at Gibbs' desk.

"I'm going to an Ugly Christmas Sweater party tonight after work," Nikki said smiling broadly. "It's a lot of fun. You'd be surprised how ugly some of these things are!"

Abby's eyes grew as large as the sweater's snowmen. "Ohhh; that gives me such an idea!" So saying, Abby left Gibbs without a backwards glance and shot up the stairs to the third floor and the Director's office.

# # #

_**Monday, December 7**_

_Memo_

_To: All HQ Personnel_

_Re: Annual December Charity Benefit_

_I have approved Abby Sciuto's plan for a Christmas charity benefit. Friday, December 18 will be deemed "Ugly Christmas Sweater Day" at NCIS HQ. Those who want to participate by wearing an ugly Christmas sweater (henceforth, 'UCS') on that day should raid their closets or their relatives' closets or someone's closet for the most unspeakable, tacky Christmas sweater. As this is a charity benefit, we are requesting a donation of 10 dollars for the privilege of "dressing up" for this day. The charity, at Ms. Sciuto's recommendation, will be "Give Me Warmth", a non-profit that collects and distributes warm clothing to the needy._

_Ms. Sciuto will come around to collect your cash donations on the 18th if you wear a UCS on that day. I recommend that you do not try to weasel out of paying your donation. I am given to understand that Ms. Sciuto knows how to leave no forensic traces._

_Prizes will be given for the most appalling sweaters._

_I encourage everyone to participate in this worthwhile endeavor, in the hopes that we only have to see these monstrosities one day a year in here._

_Leon Vance_

_# # #_

_**Friday, December 18**_

_Sweater Day_

"I can't wait to see what everyone's got on," Tony murmured quietly, grinning, as he sat down at his desk that morning. He was early on purpose: seeing other's reactions would double the fun.

"Good morning, Tony—_Yeuch!"_ said Abby.

"I'll take that as a positive reaction to my sweater," he said, strutting, and smiled hugely as she snapped a picture of him with an agency camera.

"If you say so. Pay up."

"Five dollars, right?"

She glared at him. "Ten dollars. For _you_, it should be twenty." She held out an empty powdered _Caf-Pow!_ mix can, with a hole cut in the lid. "You can pay now, too, Ziva," she added, looking over Tony's shoulder.

"Ziva? Why would Ziva have a Christmas—" Tony turned around, and stared.

Ziva wore a light blue sweater that had penguins in top hats on stage before an audience of polar bears. "I bought this my first year here. December came, and I was not prepared for the cold weather. I saw this in a shop window one cold day. I did not know it was considered a Christmas sweater." She shrugged. "I like it. And it is warm."

"Do penguins and polar bears actually live in the same hemisphere?" Tony queried.

"According to the Coca-Cola commercials, they must," said Abby.

Squinting at Tony's sweater, Ziva said, "I do not believe that is possible, either, Tony." His white sweater, had two teams of reindeer in helmets on a football field; one about to kick off. This was under a legend of _Reindeer Games._

He only snorted, and changed the subject. "Your sweater is tame. For you, Abby."

She didn't take offense, but only smiled. Over her black scoop-neck t-shirt she wore a red sweater vest with skeletal snowmen in Santa hats. "Say _cheese,_ Ziva."

"Why are you taking a picture of me?"

"For the judging. There will be prizes awarded."

"Prizes?" Ziva's competitive eyes gleamed. "Are there categories?"

"Don't know. That's up to Vance. He's heading the judging."

Tony grimaced and silently hoped that the picture of him wouldn't go in his personnel file.

_More Sweaters_

Tim and Gibbs arrived around the same time. "Let's see what you've got, Probie!" Tony said to Tim eagerly, causing Tim to frown suspiciously at him for a moment. In removing his coat, his ecru-colored sweater was revealed: it showed a desolate landscape of broken, barren trees on a snowy ground, and no sign of life. Over it all was the legend, in broken letters, _Imagine nuclear winter…_

"Oh, gone off your meds again, McDowner?" Tony jeered.

Tim frowned again. "Okay, so I don't own a real Christmas sweater. They were selling these at MIT when I was there, and they were very popular; MIT being a free-thinking school. Nuclear winter is a real threat, Tony, one which you should—"

"Say _cheese_!" Abby commanded, cutting him off with a camera flash.

Tony wisely turned toward Gibbs. "Of course _you_ didn't dress up, boss, but if you had, what would you—"

Gibbs glared at him while he took off his coat. His team and Abby gasped.

Gibbs wore a _Christmas sweater._

A gray sweater, but a Christmas one, nonetheless.

A delicately-embroidered Santa Claus flew across the night sky; his sleigh pulled by…

…a team of eight Marines in their dress blues; each wearing a small pair of wings as spotlessly white as tier gloves. The lead Marine had a red nose.

The others were stunned. Tim unconsciously raised his hand in a salute, while Abby barely remembered to snap a picture, which came out a little crooked due to Gibbs' reaching for his ringing phone. "Seaman shot dead inside a gift shop in Georgetown," he said to his team. "Grab your gear."

_Out of Uniform?_

It was a cold day, and Gibbs noticed that his team was eager to keep their NCIS jackets closed, covering their ghastly sweaters. Still, the gift shop crime scene was warm, and they would soon be sweltering if they didn't unzip the jackets soon. He wondered who the first one to give in would be.

Ducky and Jimmy arrived shortly thereafter, and both grimaced as the warm shop air made their glasses fog up. "My heavens; they keep it warm in here," Ducky mused, unzipping his jacket. "Why, it reminds me of the time when I flew into Dubai directly from a snowstorm in Arlanda, Sweden. It was—"

_Flash._ Tim snapped a picture of the ME's sweater vest. On it, a trio of geriatric elves hobbled by the North Pole marker, supporting their unsteady limbs with candy canes. "Just when I thought my day couldn't get any more nauseating, you've proved me wrong, Ducky," Tony grimaced.

"Why, thank you, Tony," Ducky said cheerfully, wiping his glasses. "This delightful garment has been in my family for ages, and I'm so pleased for this prime occasion to pull it out of the chiffarobe. It was back in 1951 that my uncle—or was it my father's uncle—"

"Dead seaman over here, Duck," Gibbs directed, and then looked in the direction his team's eyes went. Gibbs then eyed Jimmy and sighed. "I can see I'll have no peace here until we see what you're wearing, Palmer. You might as well show us."

"Dr. Mallard likes it," Jimmy grinned, reaching for his jacket's zipper. This, of course, made Gibbs afraid. Tim reluctantly raised his camera.

The bulky green sweater Jimmy wore illustrated the old English Christmas song, _The Boar's Head Carol_; complete with servers in aqua-colored medical scrubs gleefully carrying the head of a boar into a stately hall, with the words of the first verse floating in the air:

_The boar's head in hand bear I,  
Bedeck'd with bays and rosemary.  
I pray you, my masters, be merry  
__Quot estis in convivio._

Ziva pulled out her handcuffs. "Jimmy, I must arrest you for crimes against good taste." Gibbs held her back.

_Lunchtime – Holiday Party_

The team returned in time for the tail end of the annual holiday luncheon. All partaking had chipped in a small sum for catered roast chicken, ham, and sides; several people contributed homemade cookies, pies and brownies; and Vance provided beverages.

Vance was a sight, and it was all that Gibbs' team could do to not stare at him. The Director—even the lofty Director of NCIS had dressed up for the charitable benefit. Over his normal white shirt and sober dark necktie, he wore a sweater of _hot pink._ Its decoration was that of a trio of large-eyed puppies in Victorian clothing, singing (apparently) Christmas carols under a gas lamp street light as snow fell. "It was made by my mother-in-law," he said with a sigh, on seeing their stares. "Jackie has a matching one, with _kittens_. At least I got the puppies. Once I have a picture to show Nana that I've worn it in public, I can safely burn this thing."

"That might be considered hazardous waste, Director," Jimmy offered, but shut up at Vance's cold look.

"When will the awards be announced?" Ziva wondered.

"Soon," said Abby, coming up. "We were waiting for you guys to get back. You were the only ones out in the field today."

"The field," Tony muttered. "That's where we should have buried these. No one would ever know."

_The Winners_

When the clock turned to 2, and the tables of food had been eaten nearly down to the tablecloths, Vance called the hundred or so employees to attention. Dabbing their lips and quieting, they turned to him expectantly.

"I want to thank you all for your enthusiastic response to this year's charity benefit. Do you have the numbers, Ms. Sciuto?"

Beaming, Abby skipped forward and handed him a piece of paper.

"With your generous contributions—and many of you donated more than the 10 dollar minimum—we have raised 2,460 dollars for _Give Me Warmth._ I'm sure they will appreciate it. Good work," he added over the loud applause.

"And now for the winners of the Ugly Christmas Sweater contest," he said, consulting his Blackberry. "The prize is: a half-day off work; administrative leave." There were plenty of cheers at this. People looked around, smiling proudly; each sure that his or her appalling knitwear was the ugliest in the room…if not in the country.

Vance continued. "In the category of _Mistakenly Beautiful in an Ugly Sweater Contest_—Nikki Jardine."

Nikki squealed with joy through her face mask. Her sweater today was indeed sedate; it was a Christmas tree with appliquéd ornaments and tiny, genuine fairy lights attached. It was almost pretty.

"In the category of _Most Depressing_—Agent McGee and his Nuclear Winter sweater. Stay out of sight when the SECNAV comes by at 4, McGee; that's a hot button of his."

Over the somewhat strained laughter of the crowd, Vance went on. "Finally, in the category of _Job-Related But Most Implausible Concept_—Agent Gibbs and his airborne Marines. Thank you all again, and Merry Christmas."

_Ending the Day_

At quitting time, Ziva looked up at her teammates as they all slowly put their work aside and powered down their computers. "It is Friday night. Shall we all go to Mulligans' for a drink?"

"I don't know if they'll let us in, dressed like this," Tim fretted.

"Oh, come on, Timothy; nothing ventured, nothing gained," said Ducky, come up with Jimmy and Abby in his wake. "It's been a, shall we say, a colorful day? We should end it together with a little good liquid cheer. And you're coming , too, Jethro; no arguments."

Gibbs rolled his eyes, but allowed Ducky to pull him along.

And they were pleased, for once, to get the big booth in the back, with the bowls of popcorn already in place.

Which may have had something to do with the fact that once they hung up their coats…the other bar patrons scattered.

"Cool," said Tony. "We should really wear these more often!"

He was promptly pelted with popcorn.

-END-


End file.
